A Part to Play
by Arthur Poutdragon
Summary: When Clive posed as someone close to the Professor, he never realised just how close he was making himself. For a request on the Layton kinkmeme. Unwound Future spoilers, Luke/Layton/Clive, underage Luke.


Clive awakes in the middle of the night to Luke slipping into bed with him, and his first thought is to ask, "Did you have a nightmare, little Luke?" The question dies on his lips somewhere around the second word, though, because Luke's hand is suddenly somewhere rather distracting, Luke's eyes are on his and there's something horribly penetrating in that gaze, like he's given himself away in some way because Luke seems to be looking so deeply into him. Tries to stammer out a different question, though he can't find the words and can only be certain that the first begins with a 'wh', given that it's the only sound he seems capable of making at this exact moment as Luke's hand adds more pressure and starts to move.

His struggles to work out _what in the hell is going on_ are not helped in the slightest by Layton joining them.

Managing to turn his head, to break eye contact with Luke, Clive turns his gaze instead upon Layton, opens his mouth to form the words again and has it captured instead by a kiss that he realises in retrospect that he probably should have expected given the circumstances. He keeps his eyes open even as Layton's tongue slips into his mouth, too shocked to react properly but some distant analytic part of his mind that's always present noting the way Layton's brow knits together, the way his hand trembles when it knots in Clive's hair. He's guilty. Guilty that he's doing that but clearly not planning to stop, and the fact that he's guilty about an act between two (potentially) consenting adults, the fact that Luke is there too and certainly seems to know his way around what he's doing more than he really should, the fact that to them Clive is _big Luke_, has to mean that- oh.

_Oh._

He pushes Layton back, turns his face away as Luke pulls away too, avoids both of their eyes because he cannot afford to give himself away at this point. "It's been a long time," he tells them haltingly, which isn't so much a lie as a careful choice in words; it has been a long time since he last had sex, some nameless boy in a back alley who he didn't bother to tip because the sex was good but the shame was crippling, but it's not what they'll think, that he's been apart from Layton because Layton has turned against him. That it's _betrayal_ that colors his cheeks and makes his own brow knit into a frown, that he's done _this_ before and only the addition of 'another self' is truly different from the past. He doesn't know what he expects from them, though.

The overriding expectation is perhaps that they'll leave, presume he's too far gone to want them and return to their own room, perhaps resume their activities alone and leave Clive to bite his lip until it bleeds, jerk off to the thought of them and pretend it's their hands on him because now that the possibility is given to him the thought of it not happening at least in his fantasies is more or less inconceivable. Even with his words and the tense air he's broadcasting, he's harder than he ever remembers being, even worse than the night after he and Dimitri agreed to include Layton in their plans, because he's _remembered_ Layton all this time and the thought of being someone so close to Layton, even as a simple facade, even not knowing truly _how_ close he was placing himself, had damn near been the most exciting thing to ever grace his thoughts.

Luke evidently notices Clive's reaction, though, and even as Layton shifts, making to leave, Luke leans in close and Clive can _feel_ the grin against his ear. Tells him, "S'okay, big me, the Professah an' me can make up for everythin' 'e mighta done while 'e's been evil."

Clive would never have guessed on his own that he's playing the part of someone somehow so innocently _obscene_.

When he shudders approvingly, tilts his head despite his trepidation to kiss Luke, Layton settles again, apparently seeing that the decision has been made. Short work is made of nightclothes, and Clive finds himself watching the differences in them once nakedness makes them more open, the way Layton keeps the covers close around himself as best he can whereas Luke seems inclined to push them away entirely, to have the whole thing out in the open, as it were. Wonders how that works when it's just the two of them, can't decide whether it would be more befitting the character he's made of himself to take one approach or the other, before things progress further and something as trivial as whether to have the sheets around himself is inconceivable to think of.

There are two of Layton's fingers inside of him practically before he knows it, Layton whispering in his ear and Clive can't make out the words, Luke's mouth around his cock and _good god_ if Clive has to play the part of Luke more than this he's going to be _sorely lacking_ in this department because Luke is better than anyone Clive has ever had before, enough that he barely even notices the addition of another finger. Doesn't really register it until the fingers are replaced with Layton's cock, Layton trembling with the effort of holding back because Clive yelps out loud, fevered whispers in Clive's ears as they hold still because they have to, only Luke continuing and gripping at Clive's hips so that he can take in more. It's all that Clive can do not to come there and then when Layton finally does move, and if Layton's hitched breaths and then way he pauses again are any indication, the feeling is mutual, so Clive reaches down, slips a hand between Luke's legs and starts to jerk him off, no grace or gentleness because he's not going to last and he doesn't expect to be able to _move_ after this, much less give Luke a proper handjob, so Luke needs to be able to get it off to hard and fast and rough or he's not going to get off at all.

Hard and fast and rough is, evidently, not a problem for any of them, because once Layton starts properly moving he's rougher than Clive ever expected, enough that if Clive had the thinking power left over he'd probably have to wonder if there's a masochistic streak somewhere inside of him, and he damn near sees stars as comes, Layton's teeth sinking into the side of his neck as the professor follows seconds after, Luke joining them quickly with the first loud noise he's made as he releases Clive's cock, a sharp wordless cry as he comes over Clive's hand. Beyond that, Clive doesn't even know, drifting on the high of it all through the cleaning up and the two of them settling beside him, barely even comprehending where he is, _who_ he is before sleep claims him straight from the high.

The next morning is the first time Clive has ever felt guilty for his plan.


End file.
